Memories of a Human Bear
by Smorgesborg
Summary: My first Fan Fiction, thank you very much. Please review and help me become better at this. I will attempt to have multiple chapters. All reviews are welcome, even people without accounts.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: My first language was Russian,despite being born in Boston, so I made the Heavy's accent more Russian at the end using my knowledge of Russian consonants. Also, I would like constructive criticism. This is my first Fan Fiction.**

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><p>Igor Alexeyavich Pushka sat on his couch. He was tired. He always was, it seemed, ever since he turned 70. He's 85, and things haven't exactly gotten better.<p>

It been many years since he last saw his friends, let alone remember them. You don't think about those things when you lose your family. You think about them. And how much of their lives you missed, and shall never be in again.

Slowly, his eyes shut on themselves. He fought back, not wanting to miss out on his own, but he was too weak to fight the oncoming sleep.

Even though the bear of a man had a poor memory, his subconscious processed his old memories in sleep. Igor, however, being the old man he is, forgot them upon waking up. This time was no different, and the memories came flooding in.

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><p>Only one, however, was dominant.<p>

The announcer's voice came over the P. A. "5! 4! 3! 2! 1!" and the alarm turned on.

Igor saw his twin brother running across the field with his own Medic behind him, his own Übercharge prepared. The Medic of his brother was the twin of his own. Every one on each team seemed to have a twin, and the pair was no exception.

"Charge me doktor!" Igor yelled at his medic, named Fegelein. In any other situation, he would have reservations about killing his twin, but everybody on either team knew there was a respawn, so death wasn't permanent, just a small inconvenience and a setback. There was however, pain, which is what the medics were there for.

In the fight, every brawler had a certain tolerance for pain, and when there was too much, they died of a hemorrhage. All the signals going to the brain can get a bit much.

Suddenly, the boy, Billy went running through the gates. Almost instantly, he was chewed up in midair by the minigun ammo during one of his trademark double jumps.

"Now, doktor!" The urgency in Igor's voice was getting getting stronger. His twin was getting closer. Fegelein's twin brother, Jödel, was starting to pull the trigger on the medigun. Everything seemed to go into slow motion that moment.

Multiple things happened as the world seemed to slow down. First, the dumb BLU, Jane Doe, fired his rocket launcher into the barrel of the other soldier, John Doe, as he was firing. The predictable happened, and both the rocket launchers exploded, tearing off each of their right arms. They immediately pulled out their shovels and started hitting each other in the head with them. Both of them were right handed, so the hits obviously weren't strong enough to hurt anybody. It was like they were playing with each other in the way the teams tend to do before the round starts.

Next, the demoman pulled out his Ullapool Caber, and hit himself on the head with it, probably thinking it was his bottle. At the same moment, the area near the RED Base grew a mushroom cloud, probably due to the same drunken shit. The demoman, obviously, did not survive, and all that was left of him was a small pile of ashes which quickly blew away.

The final event that occurred that moment was the charge. Suddenly, Efim, Igor's brother, turned a deep shade of red and his eyes started glowing.

"Иди к чорту, геганская блядь!" (Go to hell, you giant whore!) Efim yelled at the top of his lungs at his brother.

Igor, the stubborn man that he is, started spinning up his gun. Although, deep within his mega baboon heart, he knew that only a miracle would save him now. Suddenly, he felt his heart rate increase, and he now felt at the top of the world.

Fegelein ordered "Now go!" and Igor obeyed. He shot bullet after bullet at his brother, coming closer and closer to him.

By the time Jödel's übercharge ended, they were only centimeters away from each other. Efim, no longer invulnerable, was instantly killed and was thrown like a ragdoll against Jödel, who was then killed by the bullets passing through Efim, and by the momentum of the rather large Russian.

Fegelein's übercharge ended. Igor strapped Sasha to his back, turned around, and hugged his medic, nearly crushing him, and yelled "You did vell!"

Igor suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back, and died by spy.


	2. Chapter 2

**I would like to thank my grandfather on this one. He didn't actually help, but I practically turned the heavy into him after he woke up. Also, depending on how the "th" sound is pronounced in a word, it can be said as "s" or "z" when a person with a real Russian accent says it.**

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><p>The old man woke suddenly. His heart was beating fast, but he had no idea why. Little did he remember that the only thing allowing his heart to beat at that speed is that it wasn't a human heart, but the heart of a rather large primate. Of course, he didn't remember the dream that caused the fast pace in the first place.<p>

He looked out the window. It was night, and the last time he looked at his clock was at 5:00 pm. He went to his laptop, and opened the small machine. He knew it was much smaller, yet faster, than the computers at his old job, but he didn't remember what that was, either.

He went to to look at the news in Russia on lenta. The whole issue with claims that Putin was rigging the elections reminds him of the good old days, back in the Soviet Union. Anyways, it seemed to be his only connection to his home country, ever since he settled down in city near Boston, that many people, even in Boston, had never even heard of. What was the name again? Newton.

"Nooton," Igor muttered to himself.

He remembered he had an old friend living nearby, within 50 kilometers, which he had met during his old job, but he had hard time remembering who.

He was bored of the news, and started searching the internet for songs or poems he could say the next time he goes to that small building where Russian immigrants go to pass the time and make friends or share memories, of which Igor, of course, had very little of.

A few minutes later, he found something, printed it out, and put it down next to his bed.

"I'll read eet een zhe mourneeng," Igor said, realizing that the Russian language, too, was slipping from memory.

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><p>More memories came in. One was dominant. Blah blah, on with the show.<p>

Thunder Mountain. What a race. Long, difficult, and many places where one could go wrong. But still, it was fun.

"60 seconds!" the announcer yelled over the P. A.

Igor said to Fegelein, "Is doktor shoor zhe plan veel vork vell?" Fegelein laughed, looked at Igor, stopped, and stared.

"Oh, you vere zerious?" Igor stared back, and slowly nodded, confused.

"Da. Obviously." The German doctor loked at his feet, embarrassed.

"I didn't notice…" the man mumbled, barely loud enough for the big Russian to hear. "Anyvays, I am vone hundred percent sure zhat it vill vork. Zhat eez, if Jane forgets to follow his own. Again."

"5!" Every BLU approached the gates. "4!" Billy raised his bat. "3!" Pyro lit… its flamethrower. "2!" Dell prepared his Mini-Sentry. "1!" As the gates opened, Fegelein started his medigun, a beam came out of nowhere, and a split second later, where Igor once stood, there was a giant body fizzling out of existence.


	3. Chapter 3

**I asked for a bit of help on this one. As you could probably see in the previous chapter, I have already ran out of ideas for dreams. None in this chapter, though. So, I asked LilyRosetheDreamer to help in anyway she possibly can. Hope you enjoy :D!**

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><p>Igor woke up, his strong back in horrible pain. He guessed it was probably because he sprained it the other day in the garden of his, which takes up an acre in a forest a few kilometers away. He uses it to help provide food for himself. After all, if you were that large, wouldn't you eat enough food to make yourself have no money in a year?<p>

The giant man keels over, grabbing the back of his thighs for support. He then pulls as hard as he could to straighten his back. The sound of cracking was heard, and Igor laid back. "Ahhh...," he groaned in relief.

He quickly got up and made his way to his Honda. Where was he to drive? Harvard Vangaurd. He knew, that like last time he pulled his back into alignment, that the pain would return, and he wanted none for as long as possible.

He came, checked himself in, filed the required forms and was taken to his room. He was asked to remove his clothes from his body, so he did so (reluctantly). He then put on the skimpy paper robe, which barely covered his torso. He tried to pull it down, but that ended with it tearing. So he found some tape, a few newspapers, and reassembled it to a size that would accommodate him. He tried to lay down in bed, which creaked loudly in protest to his weight.

*A few hours later*

Igor, having watched television for the past few hours, was excruciatingly bored. Getting ready for sleep, suddenly, a tall doctor quickly shuffled in loudly, talking to nurses in a heavy German accent. What he was saying was too quiet to understand, but the accent and the occaisonal understood word came along fine. From what the old man could understand, the nurses were told to duct tape together two trash bags, the purpose, however, was not heard.

The doctor looked up, and his face seemed to be familiar to Igor. From where, was the question. He was, well, tall, had blue eyes, brown hair (not without a few grey streaks), and a medical robe that seemed to have patches of blood on it. His face seemed to have no age, but had its own fair share of wrinkles. Probably from years of complex medical procedures and the resulting stress, Igor assumed.

"You are doktor, da?" the familiar man raised his eyes, covered by round glasses.

"Ja, I am. So, vhen vas zhe last time you saw a doctor?" Igor looked down, embarrassed.

"At least... fifty four years ago." the ageless doctor looked at him with wide confused eyes.

The doctor calmed down, looked at his chart, and started speaking. "Your name... is... Igor Pu-" the man stopped talking in the middle of his sentence, looked up, and stared. He looked back at the chart, to make sure there were no mistakes, and quickly looked up. His hands started shaking, dropped his clipboard and papers, and embraced the man, crying loudly.

Igor looked down at the crying man, and patted him on the on the back, speachless.

After a few minutes of that, he grabbed the doctor by the arms, put him on the floor, and forced him to stand. Igor then spoke, in a nervous tone, "Vhat zhe hell just happen?"

The quivering man replied nervously, "Don't you remember? Ve used to vork togezher, on BLU?" Igor shook his head. "Ubercharge?" Igor shook again, the proud man showing less confidence than before, and that shows plenty. "Fegelein? Medic?" he pleaded, looking more and more embarrassed every word. But, at the final word, something in Igor's giant head clicked.

He whispered "Doktor? Medic. MEDIC!" he yelled the final word, due to past habit, and his rememberance of why he was there.

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><p><strong>Fin. This chapter has been long enough.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry guys that it has been taking so long, I have been busy playing the game. I have been playing a lot of Medic, and doing a good job at it with my Quick-Fix (shut up haters, it depends on how well the person is at using it). On the bright side, yesterday I play TF2 with LilyRosetheDreamer , who is not known as that on Steam(as of writing this). Her favorite class is Sniper. Guess why. Or ask her. I don't know and won't even bother trying to guess, or ask, because I am lazy. Also, an important character is introduced. Do not guess the obvious, you would be wrong**

** *EDIT It's been a month and a half since I've tried to work on this, but a recent private message (you know who you are) told me to continue**

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><p>After half an hour of playing "crush the doctor" with Fegelein, the old battle medic finally asked Igor, "So, vhy exactly are you here?"<p>

Igor finally placed the man on the floor, sat down, lay back, and started thinking. For those of you who have tried using old computers in the modern world, you know how long he was thinking, until, like the moment you whack said computer with a bat, it hit him. Literally.

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><p>A young boy across the street was playing with his new air-gun, by aiming it at random people on the street. Did I mention he has a scope on it? Rotten, spoiled, kid... Anyways! He saw the man lying on his side on a hospital bed, and thought it would be interesting to see the poor man react to a sudden pain in his neck. Just as he was pulling the trigger, his parents walked into the room, and as the door opened, he jumped in surprise, because the door was, well, creaky.<p>

"Richard William Shakefist!" yelled his randomly loud mother. "How DARE you shoot that weapon in this apartment! You could break the crystal chandelier!"

The gun had fired the moment the boy jumped. "It's fine, _MOTHER_, I am aiming it at people that are outside."

William, also known as Billy when he was younger, turned to his wife. "It's fine, he won't be breaking any of our stuff. Leave the boy be."

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><p>That little pellet went through the window of the hospital room, but missed the intended target. Instead, it hit the wall, bounced off the heart monitor across the room, whizzed out the door, hit a passing medicine cart, flew back into the room, whereupon it cracked the television screen, and then flew straight into the lying man's foot.<p>

Feeling the surge of pain, the electricity generated from the response of the nerves was enough to kick start his brain, and for him to say, "I have back pains from back strains." Then, from the overload of processes required to think, he had a headache. And not the small ones that go away after a few minutes or from drinking water. No, no, it was a full blown migraine. (This is the newer stuff) Imagine this: Lawrence Mundy headshots you, with a huntsman. But you don't die. That painful.

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><p>After a few weeks and the expensive reconstruction of the medi gun, the old Ruskie was healed. Why was it expensive, you ask? Well, the original one's parts were too worn by age to be deconstructed and reverse engineered, and thus, due to different conditions than the past, it was mostly trial and error. Meaning many parts were bought for no reason, ones that were correct were broken, and not too mention all the monkeys... oh god, the monkeys...<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Next one already, I am now inspired. Please continue to review, those who are. Those of the **_**50**_** that have not, DO IT! This chapter has a hint of things to come. Review on your guesses to what, along with criticism.**

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><p>To those that wondered, the monkeys came from two generous local zoo owners, brothers, who have trouble feeding the monkeys, and would only communicate through poorly written notes that one could barely read. Not to mention that they placed an occasional random landmine somewhere in the zoo.<p>

After Ivan was healed, and his back no longer hurt, he left the hospital. Fegelein then decided to change his job times to part time, to make up for lost time with Ivan, and Fegelein's age was finally getting to him. More patients were dying by his hand, and he was not allowed to use his medigun because it was not approved by the FDA. Which is why it fell into disrepair. At least he had his dead brother's skeleton collection.

His brother, Jödel, he made up with a few years after they the TF Industries. Unlike Fegelein, Jödel could not control himself, and lost his medical liscense because of a mysterious person that would remove the skeletons of his patients, and put them into Jödel's closet. In other words, the man himself.

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><p>With more time on his hands, Fegelein had more time to spend with his old friend, who daily would develop more problems, such as memory lapses, broken bones, and a disease that only occurs when he sees a piece of machinery, and even then, rarely, which is to say, often.<p>

When Ivan wasn't being fixed by Fegelein, they were reminiscing upon the past, and what they have done in the time since they have left BLU.

"Does doktor even know vhy vee vere removed from job?" Ivan asked during the first session of remembrances.

Fegelein Herrmann, otherwise known as Medic, sighed. "As I recall, zhere was a problem with respawn. It vas starting to have glitches, for example, some classes were spawning as ozers, while somehow retaining zhe conscience."

"OH HO HO! I remember now!" the bear laughed. "Remember, vhen whole team spawn spawned as eizher sniper or spy?"

Fegelein snickered. "Or vhen half vere engineers?"

"Or, vhen Jödel just discovered the Übercharge, ve vere all soldier?"

At that moment, Fegelein's grandson ran into the room. He resembled his grandfather, but slightly shorter for his age and with dark brown eyes. He had wide open eyes, was panting, and was trying to regain his breath. Upon seeing Ivan, he gasped, opened his eyes wider somehow, and fainted.

"Who is zhis?" inquired Ivan.

"My grandson," the german responded, "his name is Plato, son of mein son, Aristotle."

"So bird vas your son?"

"Funny, but nein. After ve lost our jobs, I took it upon myself to start a family. Vhen I met my vife, god bless her soul, Aristotle died soon after of old age. Vhen my son vas born, I named him in honor of my beloved pet."

Ivan still looked confused. "If doktor have son, vhy is Plato here, not vizh his fazher?"

Fegelein then broke into tears akin to how he did in chapter 3. "He vas killed by alcohol a year ago. Not how you vould expect, zhough. He vas getting groceries from across zhe street, and vas hit by a man who vas intoxicated."

"So drunk man killed him?"

"Nein, he survived. He vas in zhe hospital for 2 weeks, and zhen vas released. Vhen he vas on his vay home, zhough, in zhe taxi, a truck carrying beer rammed into the side of zhe side of zhe taxi he vas on. He died of blood loss 3 blocks avay from home."

"Doktor, but vhere is his mama?"

"She said she could not take zhe stress of being a single mutter. She dumper him on me, since she said she had none of her own relatives."

"Now zhat is sad."

The medic looked up at heavy, started tearing up, yelled "I KNOW!" and started bawling again.

Ivan looked around at the two incapacitated men, picked up Plato, and carried him into the nearest room with a bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**When I say criticism, I mean that I want to know what your opinion of the story is so far, what is good, and what I bad. I have attempted to write this chapter three times. This is the third. I had to restart every time, for the same reason, on the same day. My computer shut itself down twice for no reason whatsoever. For my troubles, I deserve to have reviews. I CAN SEE HOW MANY PEOPLE READ THE STORY! I CAN SEE THAT I AM NOT GETTING ENOUGH REVIEWS COMPARED TO HOW MANY PEOPLE READ!**

_**(insert line here)**_

The Russian returned to the living room to try to comfort his medic buddy.

He sat down next to Fegelein and said calmly, "Ve have talked about boy's past, but vhat is his age?"

Fegelein held back his tears, thought for a moment, and responded, "Fifteen, turning sixteen in vûn monzh."

"How are grades?"

"Pazhetic. Remember zhe dispenser?" Ivan slowly nodded, "now imagine it vis'h the top ammunition gauge taken off and placed next to it connected by vires. He uses zhat… s'hing to play somes'hing called a video game, it is hard to get him avay from it for more zhan an hour. I am afraid he vill vaste his entire life on it…" The old battle medic slowly started whimpering again.

"Shhhh… shhh…." Ivan softly cooed, "everys'hing vill be fine. He ran into zhe room for a reason. He vants to get avay from it, but he cannot, like leetle scoot from RED Pyro." Fegelein laughed a bit from the memory of countless times treating the boy from his burn wounds.

"Ünd vhat if you are wrong, mein freünd?"

Ivan thought for a moment, and recalled a certain awkward memory. "Remember Jane's Disciplinary Action?"

The old men burst into laughter for a short time, and fell silent.

_**(Insert line here)**_

About an hour later, the old friends were asleep in front of a television showing a program which judged games. This week's episode: Team Fortress 2. As the show ended, a door opened and both old men awoke with a start.

In walked Plato, somewhat groggily and holding his head and moving his fingers, as to massage it.

Fegelein slowly looked up, giving his eyes time to wake. "Vhy did you come by earlier, Plato?"

"Grampa, what was the job you had before meeting grandma?"

"Haven't I ever told you?"

"No, you have not," Plato said, with a tense tone and an armor penetrating stare. "And I would like to know."

"Nein, you cannot know." Fegelein quickly shook his head left and right, as if trying to shake away memories.

"And why the hell not?" Plato insisted.

"Vhy? Are you really asking me vhy? I have taken care of you since your mutter dumped you at mein doorstep a year ago. I have clozhed you, I have fed you, and I have provided you a home for you, and you deny mein judgement, give me mistrust? If I do not vant you to know, zhen zhere is a reason!"

"Grampa, I do trust you, but right now, you have to trust me," Plato pleaded.

"After vatching you vaste avay your life in front of a screen? Give me vûn reason," Fegelein critiqued.

"I am your last hope for a future."

That struck a chord in Fegelein Herrmann. He frowned, stood up, and adjusted his glasses. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and left the house. Ivan stared at him the entire time, not saying a word, and as the doctor left, he said four short words to the teenager in front of him:

"Vhat have you done."

_**(insert line here)**_

He returned a few hours hour later carrying a cooler, what seemed like medicine, scrap metal, and a tool kit, all in bloodied hands. He went to the kitchen, and put down the cooler, taking something red in color out of it. He reached for a newspaper, wrapped the object in it, and placed it in the refrigerator.

He turned to the old Russian man, and asked, "Remember zhat operation I gave to you, oh so many years ago?" Ivan's eyes widened. "Zhat's right, mein freund. I will preform it again on somevûn else as soon as I complete a few s'hings…" His voice trailed off as he walked towards the garage.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, it turns out I can turn a hardcore troll fanfic writer into a normal fanfic writer. Yes Maggot, I mean you. Please people, review. I work hard to write these, I deserve reviews. I won't even beg. Also, I want people to realize that I place hints on what happens next possibly throughout the chapters, with only a rough idea of what to do next. Mostly, those hints are completely accidental. I notice them later when I develop ideas on what to do next, and go along with them.**

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><p>For a few hours, Plato was pacing back and forth in his room, going between being on YouTube, walking back and forth, and playing Team Fortress 2. Recently, he had come upon the final item on the list when talking to his friends on video games. At first, he didn't like it, being a CoD fag. But, when he realized that tactics ARE important, he liked it. He was rather good at it, too.<p>

Back to the point. The entire time he was going through this, he was being nagging by constant, quick, tinking noises through the paper-thin walls from the garage, which was underneath his room. The noises were occasionally accompanied by the sound of soldering and welding, even some writing, but the light, tinny taps remained constant.

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><p>Ivan Alexeyevich Pushka, the entire time, was talking to himself on how to prevent the oncoming pain the boy will suffer. He thought, at first, he would be able to calm down Fegelein enough to stop it. But he knew, deep in his Mega-Baboon heart, that nothing could stop the medic when he wanted to do something. He was worse than Jane Doe and his brother, in that respect.<p>

He was thinking and thinking, muttering and muttering, and thought of maybe taking the boy away. But who was he? Fegelein was determined to do this to his own grandson, and nobody, nor anything, can or will, stop him.

Ivan has money, maybe he can take him to Russia. Fegelein couldn't possibly find Plato there. But what about the boy? He is not accustomed to such strong, and rigid, culture. It would be worse than what he could go through if he stays.

Ivan must be able to do something, he has to. He was, after all, the Heavy Weapons Guy. He was a living tank, a human juggernaut. But Fegelein, he is the armor-piercing missile made of depleted bullet that can take Ivan down in one shot. What to do, what to do…

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><p>Fegelein toiled away over the make-shift operating system as he set up the life support system using his new medigun, removing the hose from the medipack, and attaching it to the machine that keeps the patient alive in the stead of healing.<p>

Who was Plato for insulting him? He was medic. No, he was THE Medic, and he was a force to be reckoned with. He still is a force to be reckoned with, and he knows no person that could ever live up to his legacy. He had created the Übercharge, and he had created what no person had created before, true invulnerability, being the true king of the world.

If he cannot make that scheissekopf feel the pain of being in battle, living life as it is, a constant battle, he will do the next best, or worst, thing. He shall make Plato feel as if his inside are to be torn apart, his rib cage ready explode. As he thinks the pain cannot get any worse, Plato will feel unlike he ever had before. He will feel the rush of adrenaline as his blood courses through his veins faster than ever before. His heart will beat at the rate matching that of a hummingbird, and his lungs will be full of the purest air there can ever be.

Then, it will be torn away from him, making him beg for more. He will feel pain once more, but not from his heart, which had been fitted into place during the rush. He will feel the pain from his _soul_, unbearable pain that will not go away until he either gets used to it, or gets another dose of what caused it.

Knowing Plato, getting used to the pain will be impossible. He will long for the charge, plead, apologize, but he will not get any. He had insulted his grandfather in all too serious of a manner to be forgiven. He will have to live with that feeling for the rest of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hallo guys, as of writing this (June 11, 2012), it will be one day until the 2 year anniversary of the last time I cut my hair. And those that have ever read Maggot Magnet's works of trolling, apparently a recent comment I made on her more recent story has driven her to try to write a normal one, with chapters. Huzzah for that. I am going to stop the authors note here and continue as soon as I have finished, and I know what I have written. OH! One final note, I am now the editor of KingdomOfThomond's Team Fortress 2 and Firefly Crossover, with the job of perfecting it.**

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><p>Plato woke with a start, groggily shaking his head finding himself staring at the monitor of his computer, with a message of "Kicked by Consol: You have been AFK for too long," in front of the usual loading screen of a man looking like his grandfather at a younger age holding a medigun, with a younger version of Ivan right behind him shooting a minigun wildly. He turns off the computer and puts his head back into his arms, wondering what his grandfather has planned.<p>

Heavy, tired steps start getting louder, moving towards the direction of his room. Though the sound of the footfalls sounded loud, as if made by an overweight man, they were too fast to be made by Ivan Pushka, the gentle giant.

Plato now hurriedly stands and quickens his breath to supply his rushing heart, now hearing a second set of footsteps, truly made by the Ruskie, shown by the fast tempo in the footsteps to keep pace with the first, and the heavier thumps associated with a heavyset man trying to run.

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><p>"Vhy doctor?" Ivan pleaded, trying to be as quiet as possible, "vhy you torture Plato in such vay?"<p>

Fegelein stopped, nearly causing Ivan to crash into him. "_Me_ torturing _him_?" he hissed. "If anybody vas torturing anybody, it vould be him to me, ever since he has been dumped on mein porch! Zhat scheissekopf has gotten everys'hing he had ever gotten from me, and he has done _nos'hing_ to deserve it! I deserve to do this, to show him zhe pain he has caused to me!"

Fegelein adjusted his glasses, turned back into the direction he was heading, and continued on his way through the corridor.

Ivan stood there, stupefied, trying to process the flow of information and his own thoughts he has had put in his brain that day.

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><p>Plato stood there, watching his grandfather stand in the doorway, a spitting image of the BLU medic with another 40 years under his belt. The only difference being that the trademark medipack had been replaced with a clunky backpack with corners at certain points, and there was no medigun, instead there was a large syringe like the one in the original Team Fortress 2 advertisement, filled only with a cloudy liquid that otherwise one would think to be water.<p>

Fegelein lunged for Plato with the needle, and sunk it into his chest cavity around the heart. At this moment, time slowed for Plato, even his own movements. Despite the significant slowdown of time, Fegelein's movements were hardly fast enough to be seen, as he compressed the plunger of the syringe into the syringe itself. The world rapidly went out of focus, and as he blacked out, he heard the words of the medic, "Oops! Zhat vas not medicine," and then he sensed nothing.

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><p><strong>Yeah, this is going to be a short one. Sorry, it's just that I feel that's enough for this chapter, because going any further would involve dwelling upon another topic, which is not my style of writing chapters. As of writing this authors note, it is the 2 year anniversary of the last time I cut my hair.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**I had an entire chapter written out, then my computer fell and restarted. Now **_**this**_** has to be restarted. The autosave is a lie. WHY DOES IT LIE? IT DOES NOT WORK! This chapter was a bitch to write in the first place, not I'm going to rewrite it. This time, without telling Fegelein his life isliterally a game, though the rest of the team might… hmmmm… To twist or not to twist… I shall decide later, when writing. As for now, to rewriting something completely different from the original chapter. Probably will be horrible. Oh well.**

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><p>Plato looked up at an upgraded medigun-type device, attached to a large machine, both suspended above him, emitting a blue gas directed at his chest. He tried to sit up, but upon taking a closer look at his surroundings, he saw that he was strapped to a workbench in his concrete-coated garage.<p>

He heard a grinding noise, and turned his head as much as he could to see his grandfather working away at a scalpel with a grinding stone, occasionally looking up at his grandson or lifting the small knife away, and using it again a piece of wood, trying to see if it could go through. He looked at Plato, smiled, and spoke.

"Güt, you are finally avake. I meant for zhat sedative to knock you out for about half an hour, but apparently you are veaker zhan you seem. Zhat really says somez'hing, doesn't it?"

In the distance, he heard a revving and the sound of fireworks getting fired off, and exploding in a loud shriek. He looked at the door, cladded with reinforced steel, thinking of Meet the Spy, wondering if he was to be saved from the impending transplant by a charging heavy yelling at the top of his lungs, "INCOMING!"

"You vant to know vhat zhe last person to have zhis procedure said aftervords?" Fegelein straighten his back, and stood up. "You cannot believe how much zhis hurts," obviously trying to impersonate a Bostonian accent, quietly laughing to himself. "It hurts all right, zhe procedure and zhe results. In more vays zhan vûn, zhough."

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><p><strong>Alright, guys, this is where the real twists begin, not to mention that a few twists were put into this before. It was the same as before until the paragraph before the Medic's small speech. That is new, and will continue to be new. VIEW POINT SWITCH!<strong>

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><p>Ivan was walking up to the house, and suddenly he heard the shriek of fireworks fly past him, hitting the door and exploding with the force of all the gunpowder that hasn't been burned yet and the bit in the end. The door flew open, and the two gruff, loud voices of two old men yelled simultaneously "HOO-RAH!"<p>

Ivan looked at the two old soldiers, loading modified PVC pipes with more fireworks, and inquired, "Vhas zhat really necessary? Zhe door vas unlocked."

"Of course it was!" Jane yelled.

John piped in, "We need to make an entrance! If fighting will lead to victory," Jane joined in to the chant. "THEN WE MUST FIGHT!"

"And because we fight, there will be victory!" Jane pointed out.

John continued. "SO THERE IS NO POINT IN BEING QUIET!"

The Ruskie lowered his old minigun, started spinning it, and grinned. "Vell, if you insist…"

Jane turned to John, and whispered, "Quite a step up from being Zoo owners, eh?"

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><p>Fegelein pointed his scalpel at Plato, and noticed the noise. "Scheisse… I am afraid, mein grandson, zhat zhis vill have to vait."<p>

The similar sound of the word "INCOMING!" was heard, and the sound of fast moving metal hitting metal appeared after a large clang, which was obviously some kind of battering ram going into the garage door. Explosions coming from the same area too, followed the reinforced steel door was seen flying through the garage, taking out a good portion of Fegelein's equipment, and knocking over the medic.

Jane and John started firing off fireworks at the remaining equipment, quickly destroying it. Ivan dropped Sascha on the ground and ran to Plato, and tore him out of the straps and running back through the garage. "RUN! QVUICKLY! BEFORE HE REVIVES!" Ivan yelled to the soldiers.

The home was evacuated before the police arrived. Upon arrival, though, there was only ashes where a home once stood.

In the far distance, there was the sound of a maniacal cackle.

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><p><strong>Good news: Chapter is done. Bad news: While introducing who I wanted to introduce, I now have no idea what to do now. None whatsoever, do to that doing something very drastic was the only way to get on the plan was doing the opposite of what I wanted to do. Please review, so I know what the hell to do now.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you the person that review. The Engie, thank you, but please make an account so I can respond to you, as I do not want to refer to people in the Author's Note. For those that have read the previous chapter, I have edited the end among other parts of it to be clearer about what happened. Here's a small hint: Concrete does not burn. Oh, I have a small question: Could some people tell me in a review what they see in this story? Seriously, what good do you see in it? Note: This is like a question from a teacher. What was said to The Engie applies to**** everybody who reviews.**

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><p>We enter the scene to Plato sitting on a bench in the middle of the Doe Zoo watching two ancient veterans pace back and forth seemingly lecturing him on the subject of war.<p>

"And from that day forward any time a bunch of animals are together in one place it's called a ZOO!" John growled.

Jane, then, completely unlike his age, threw down Plato, and put his finger into the young man's face. "UNLESS IT'S A FARM!"

John put his face in his hands and chuckled. "Anyways, kid, that's why we run a zoo. We are specialist in the Art of War, but as a result, we also follow in Sun Tzu's footsteps."

Ivan exited the main offices of the zoo and joined the group, head down and huge shoulders drooping. He turned to Plato. "Go play on zhe office computer." The boy walked away. "Vell, I have good news and bad news."

"What is it Ruskie?" Jane yelled with wide eyes.

Ivan looked up and sighed. "Good news, I found somevûn who can take care of Plato wis'hin zhe area."

John sighed in relief. "What's the bad news?"

"He is scout."

"Thank god that's all."

"Zhere is more," Jane and John stood up. "Fegelein is still Plato's legal guardian until he agrees to relieve responsibility or ve get a guy to change zhe documents. However, ve do have people in zhe government zhat can do zhat for us."

"And who would do that?" Jane inquired.

"One word can answer zhat. Dispenser."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Dell and Dale."

The ancient soldiers looked at each other, minds aghast, loosened their jaw muscles, and fell over.

Ivan shook his head, and went to the office where Plato was on the computer to tell him that he'd be staying at his house for a while.

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><p>When they arrived at Ivan's small apartment, everything was covered with a small layer of dust. He had not visited his home since he left it two weeks ago to go to the hospital (this is also symbolic in some manner).<p>

He fed Plato what he could, and sent him off to sleep on the bear's bed.

Ivan dusted off the television, and turned on the power. He wanted to see what he had missed during the weeks, so he changed the channel to the local news.

"Fire was raging on where a small suburban home on the outskirts of Boston used to be," Ivan heard the news-lady say. "While the fire was put out hours ago, police and firemen are confused as to what caused it. At first it seemed to be accepted that improper use of fireworks caused the fire, but upon closer examination the idea was ruled out, as the fire had spread to the entryway later on, and that was where the fireworks were found. Neighbors report seeing a tall, pale man running-"

The television cut off as Ivan noticed Plato Fegelein standing in the middle of the room silently listening to the sound of the news telling him that his home of 12 years was destroyed.

"Hey, leetle man." Plato shook his head violently, snapping himself back into reality. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"I tried. Something was troubling me, though. May I ask you a question?"

"Fire avay." again.

Plato held his hand to his chin for a moment, then opened his mouth. "When I went to the computer for that short period of time, a number of programs were opened that had other computer screens on them, along with lines of code running down the side so fast I could not even read a word of it. How did you learn to hack, at your age? The internet was created far past what I believe was your prime."

The ruskie laughed, then went into deep thought for half a minute. "Your grandfazher's vork healed more zhan just zhe body. During our previous jobs, ve vere taking too much damage for zhe full affects to occur. As a result, I remained a idiot until ve met again."

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><p><strong>Finally out. Everybody happy? Good. Please rate and review.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Look guys, I really no longer care for reviews. I now care that I get so many people reading, 50 on the first day chapter 10 came out, and I get one review…**

**That really says something, doesn't it? Anyways! Here's chapter 11!**

Plato still had something on his mind after talking with the bear of a man. What did Ivan mean by their "previous job?" Was it what he thought it was, or did he mean something else that was less illegal? So many questions, yet so little answers… so little answers…

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><p>Morning came, and Ivan woke Plato from his sleep with a heavy shake, yelling that they need to go. The small apartment had caught fire during the night, and they had barely enough time to leave before the door was impassable. Ivan grabbed his car keys and dragged Plato behind him.<p>

"Ve need to get to zhe capital as soon as possible."

"What? Why? What's going on here?"

"I'll try to explain on zhe vay. Ve'll stop by your house, or at least what remains of it, so you can try to scavenge some of your belongings."

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><p>A short trip later, they were at the burnt remains of what was Fegelein's home. It had burnt almost completely to the ground after they left the previous evening. While Plato went inside to where his room was to see what he retrieve, Ivan stayed in the car to mull over the past few days and think about what to do next, not to mention he had to research the phonebook.<p>

Meanwhile, Plato walked through the cinders to where his room is, or was.

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><p>When he entered the vicinity of where his room was, there was only one recognizable object, his computer. It was mostly undamaged, but a large hole surrounded by ripples in the plastic allowed him to see that the processor was at the bottom of the case, the RAM was lying smashed under the processor, there were burn marks on the motherboard, and the wires were a pile of plastic near the processor. Only the hard drive remained intact, and even then it was doubtful that it would work.<p>

He removed the plugs from the drive and hoped he could scavenge at least some memory.

He looked around his room – area, that is - for anything he might have missed. He looked at his bed, and noticed a hatch door where there used to be a carpet. Why didn't he see it before? Well, there used to be carpet over it, there also used to be a mattress over the carpet, and there used to be sheets over that.

He lifted the trapdoor using his fingernails after multiple attempts, grunting and squinting the entire time. Under it was a large briefcase. He attempted to open it, to no avail. He looked at the briefcase closer; there was an eight digit combination lock. On one side of the briefcase, there was a quote from "Meet the Heavy;" _It costs 400,000 to fire this weapon, for 12 seconds_.

He picked up the hard drive and the briefcase, and left.

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><p>When Plato returned to the car, Ivan was on the phone, the hand that wasn't holding the mobile phone in a fist, and the muscles on the arm were bulging.<p>

"Look, Dale, I understand that you are not in zhat field of zhe government… Yes, I know vhat defense means… No, I am not crazy, I have a clearer mind zhan in years… Dale, just put Dell on zhe phone!" Ivan turns around for a moment and notices Plato, and waves his free arm at him. "Good, zhere you are. Are you avare of our situation? Ah.. vell… Ve have an issue. You see, Fegelein may have gone crazy and tried to do to his grandson, as what he did to us forty four years ago… Yes, zhat… Vhy? Vell, zhe poor boy pointed out zhat he is the future of Fegelein. Zhe boy is pas'hetic, so you can tell vhy zhat is, vell, not so smart. I have decided vis'h Jane and John zhat ve need to get him to relatives, and unfortunately, zhat is Billy and his annoying vife… I know, I know, but zhat is all ve can do at zhis point. Because Fegelein's body vas never found, he has not legally been declared dead, so ve can't send him to Billy unless somevûn on zhe inside change zhe legal guardian… S'hank you."

Ivan closed the mobile phone and looked at the briefcase in Plato's hand. He grabbed it, and placed it on the hood of the car.

He read the quote, and put the numbers "4000" on the left side of the combination lock, and "0012" on the other. The briefcase clicked, and they lifted the top.

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><p><strong>I have an idea. How about every 11 chapters, I take what happened in the past 11 and just summarize it in a single chapter length… summary… as the twelfth.<strong>

**Review and tell me what you think.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay guys, if I get more reviews, I will be more temped to write more. I don't feel too motivated if I don't get reviews. NOW READ AND REVIEW, YOU FOOLS! (jk about the fools)**

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><p>July 2nd, 1968<p>

Location: Goldrush, New Mexico

Side: BLU

Stage: 1

Dell and Fegelein yelled at each other over the map's med-bay while Jane attempted to organize Tavish, Billy, Ivan, Robert, and Pyro in the corridor. They had a problem.

They were being spawn camped.

After the incident with every BLU spawning as soldier on Badwater, Jödel had discovered how to make any one of the REDs invincible. After the first medi-gun had the invulnerability function disabled by a sapper, he had created a more resistant medi-gun that could survive sappers by surrounding it by a thick plastic coating smaller than the original's casing (which is why the current medi-gun takes longer to heal and charge).

Because of the new medi-gun and Übercharge, RED had an advantage over BLU, and could spawn camp without taking heavy losses.

"Ah'm sorry, but there's no simple way we can recreate the conditions of the your brother's. We will need to find what is the contents, the amounts, the voltage, and how it is all applied."

There was the sound of rushing wind, and Pierre appeared behind on the other side of the room.

"I zhink I can help wizh zhat." Pierre walk over to them and looked at the large assortment of chemicals.

"Vhat vould you know about applying biochemical mechanical engineering?" Fegelein gawked at the Frenchman. "And even if you did know somes'hing about it, how could you know more zhan us?"

Pierre turned his head at both of them, and started talking. "Remember how I was missing around zhe same time zhat RED created zheir own invulnerability? I was a head; witnessing zhe entire events of zhe production of everyzhing zhat became zheir medi-gun. I know what is in zhere, with no degree of zhe sort." Fegelein opened his mouth in protest, but Pierre spoke first, "I tried to infiltrate them to see what I could to ruin zhem before the battle. My head fell off, and the healing beam accidentally brought me back a moment later, before respawn noticed."

The secretive man waltzed around the Med-Bay, picking up pain killers and bags of blood, before dumping them into a pot on the counter. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a jar of urine, likely stolen from Robert's collection, promptly emptying the contents into the mixture. "Zhis, combined with electricity in varying amounts, is zhe basis for producing healing beams that cure injuries and repair any part of zhe body. All you need to do, docteur, is to utilize and adapt it."

Fegelein thought for a moment and scanned Pierre's suit. "Do you know vhat zhe first purposefully used vaccine vas?"

"Non."

"It vas for zhe smallpox disease. A man noticed the similarities between two different diseases, zhe second being cowpox. It caused less damage on zhe body zhan smallpox, but still had similar after effects. Vhen he spoke of zhe idea to people, zhey called him crazy. He tested zhe 'vaccine' on his daughter and himself, and later on vhen zhe town vas ravaged by smallpox, zhey vere not effected. Kvite rudimentary, really."

"What is zhe point of zhis?"

Dell stepped in at this point. "Ah think ah know what the doc's talkin' abou, spah. If they developed a Quick-Fix, the quick fix representin' modern vaccines, we need somethin' that has similar effects, which are easier to apply."

"Exactly, Herr Conagher. If zhey have a Quick Fix, ve need a Quick Vaccine, not exactly zhe same, but similar effects." Fegelein widened his eyes in realization. "I know just vhat to do. Vait here."

Fegelein left the med-bay, leaving the Infiltrator and Constructor in confusion. He returned a few minutes later with a bag of salt and corn starch.

"Vhat is invulnerability? It is zhe stiffening of zhe skin to zhe point zhat projectiles cannot pierce or damage it. Stiffening it to a lesser amount is easier, and is partial invulnerability, as zhe speed of projectiles is slowed considerably by zhe skin. So, vhat do ve use to stiffen zhe skin? Starches, and materials zhat yeild similar results such as..." Fegelein shrugged his arms to lift the two bags against his chest, to signify that he was referring to them.

"Zhis iz not my profession. Monseur Docteur, Laborer, I am taking my leave." He cloaked and left the room, the silently closing door being the only sign he actually left.

"Herr Conagher, do you have any small electric fans I could use?" he commented strolling over to the coffee machine, taking out the coffee pot and dumping the contents into the nearby sink.

"Sure, doc, I think so."

"Güt. Can you also mix zhese powders and make zhe result into a solid pellet?"

"I guess that's not too hard..."

"Do you haf a small electric pump, for liquids? I vill need one for s'hick liquids."

"I think I can rig one up..."Dell started kicking at ground, looking at the lifting dust.

"Oh, and vûn last s'hing. A few loose vires, an extension cable, ünd a small grinder."

The worker lifted his head and frowned. "Are ya sure that's all?"

"Ja."

Dell dropped his shoulders, and spread his legs one forward and the other backward. "Are ya COMPLETELY sure?"

Fegelein thought for a moment, and answered as a breeze went past him, "Vell, I guess I..."

By that point Dell Conagher was halfway to his workshop.


End file.
